


On the Other Side

by stillnotfictional



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner, maze runner trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Page 250, Reader Insert, Sad, Spirit - Freeform, Spoilers, The Death Cure Spoilers, The Maze Runner Spoilers, The Scorch Trials Spoilers, ch. 2 contains spoilers, dead, fluff?, lol, maybe in the end, probably a twin sibling, reader - Freeform, sibling! minho, the feels are reals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:40:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillnotfictional/pseuds/stillnotfictional
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the day that the girl named Teresa came up on the Box, two certain boys grieve.<br/>On the night that the girl named Teresa came up on the Box, two certain boys dream.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> newt imagine  
> title : on the other side  
> character (s) : newt, minho  
> words : 3117  
> warnings : feels. feels. feels.  
> au, reader insert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And then Newt saw her smile in that beautiful, sad way, her mouth forming a beautiful “I love you.”_

Minho still blamed himself for his sister’s death. Every Friday, at night, he would go into the small garden that she loved so much, and form a crown entirely made out of flowers. At first, his attempts were shabby and poor. There was too much of this, and too little of that; the stems fell apart. But he didn’t give up until he made one good enough.

 

Then he put it on her little grave. He had nothing to bury except for her necklace, one that Minho figured that she shoved into his pack at some time during her last day. It was a carved bird, ready for flight. He buried it, made her nameplate himself. Every week, he would switch the old crown with the new. But even though he did this every week, he didn’t allow himself to linger on her death.

 

He remembers her last day clearly, though, as if it didn’t happen 14 months ago, but just two days ago. He remembers the way they looked up at the sky, then at each other with wide, panicked eyes. He remembers her hand in his as they ran for their lives. He remembers the panic that rose in his throat when he realized they wouldn’t make it. He remembers her letting go. He remembers the way she pushed him through the doors, the way he stumbled into the Glade, hands grabbing him at all sides, while she was trapped in the Maze.

 

He remembers banging on the closed gaps like there was no tomorrow (not for him, but for her). He remembers that night, the time he spent at her beloved little garden. He remembers Gladers staying out of his way, leaving him to grieve. He remembers fumbling with her favorite flowers, then discovering the little necklace in his pack. Then he remembers the day after, when he watched the doors open slowly with tired eyes, hoping that she would come out from the other side.

 

She didn’t.

 

On the day that the girl with black hair and white skin came up, he noticed Newt acting strange. And he didn’t know how, but he knew that Newt would isolate himself that night. So Minho decided that if Newt isn’t back by the time he strung together a flower crown for his sister, he would go get him.

 

When he walked out of the garden, he was bombarded with questions from the newer people, on where Newt was. He ignored all of them, and walked straight into the forest. They didn’t follow, probably held back by the older Gladers.

 

It took not too long for him to find Newt. There was a muffled cry, then a few sobs. He followed the noise, and saw a flash of blond hair. It was enough for him to tell that Newt was probably up there.

 

“Newt,” he croaked out. Shuck it, his voice was cracking. “Are you up there?”

 

The blond’s square face peeped out from above the high branches. Minho was a bit surprised. Nobody had ever dared to climb that high. But he’s grieving, making up for the 14 months that he pretended that his girlfriend, Minho’s sister, never existed. And grieving makes you do things. He decided not to comment on it.

 

“They’re worried,” he continued. “They’re waiting.”

 

“Yeah,” it was nothing more than a whisper, but Minho heard it fine. His voice sounded as if he was crying his heart out just moments ago―which he probably was.

 

“Dude, I know. Believe me, I know,” Minho said. He knew that if [name] was here, she would comfort Newt. But she isn’t here and Minho’s taking her job. Because he knows that she would want him to.

 

“Yeah, I’ll come down soon,” the blond replied. Minho turned and left. There was nothing else that he could do. Ten minutes later, he sees Newt slowly walking out of the forest, and that’s enough for him to smile through the pain.

 

Minho sees her last day in his dreams.

  
  


_It’s a really normal, boring day in the Glade. [name] and Minho are getting ready to move out into the maze, just like they do each day. Newt was helping them pack―more like helping [name], but whatever. Before they leave, Minho sees Newt kissing [name], and her kissing back. They were a little late, but Minho allowed them to be caught up in their little moment._

_When it was first announced that [name] would be a runner, Newt was so against it. Minho knew how much they meant to each other, and he didn’t want to lose his sister either, but he promised to himself that he wouldn’t make her decisions for her. She was strong enough to be a runner, and everyone knew. So he helped her convince Newt._

_“Of course, Newtie. See ya later!” he heard, and then she bolted into the Maze after him. They exchanged a look that only siblings as close as they are can understand. Then they smiled (more like smirked, but it doesn’t matter anymore) at each other before the Glade was out of sight._

_And then the only thing they could hear was the rhythmic thumps of their shoes against the damp stone, and their steady breathing._

__  
  


_They had been in the Maze for four hours when they found this huge hole. They exchanged incredulous looks. Sure, they haven’t come to this part often, but they were pretty sure that they would notice a huge hole like this. But then, the Maze walls do change every night._

_Then they smiled at each other. They are hopeful, genuine grins. This might be their way out of this prison they were thrown in without their memories. This place was new, and it gave them new hope._

_“Stones?” Minho asked simply._

_“Stones,” [name] answered. They had this little inside joke. One night, they just remembered about this book called The Fault in Our Stars. It’s one of the little things that they both remember loving from before their memories were wiped. One of them would ask a question, and the other would repeat the word, but in a statement._

_Without another word, they got to collecting loose stones around the area. They gathered stones in a pile, near the huge hole. “So… should we do this?” she asked. He nodded._

_And they threw in the gathered stones into the hole, one by one. Each one went down the hole, as gravity took over. Each stone was thrown, and as the pile dwindled, their hope also did. But they pushed on. As they got closer to the middle, [name] realized something._

_“Shuck,” she muttered, and Minho took his eyes off of the flying stone to turn to her and raise his eyebrows (he would discover later, when Thomas comes to the Glade, that this stone led to their exit. If only he looked at it a little longer, then [name]’s death wouldn’t have been for nothing). She only pointed up at the sky, then at her watch._

_And Minho’s eyes widened. How could he have forgotten the time? It was an hour after they were supposed to be starting to head back. “Let’s go!” he shouted, and [name] didn’t need another word. Together, they broke into a run towards the Glade._

__  
  


_They heard the Doors closing before they saw it. The grinding of stone made them run faster. They were both drenched in sweat, hands clutching each other in desperation. Minho was in the front, but [name] wasn’t far behind. They ran for their lives. Panic gripped their hearts with no mercy, and rose in their throat like bile._

_The Gladers urged them on from the other side, the safe side. They were rolling their feet, as if they were the ones who were running. Newt was in the middle, with Alby and Nick restraining him by grabbing both of his arms. Their grim eyes met Minho’s. Newt looked past Minho, at [name]. In his eyes were raging desperation._

_The doors were seconds were closing._

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

_Then [name] did something nobody expected her to do. She let go of Minho’s hand, and he almost stopped running. Newt was still looking at [name] with wide eyes filled with fear. Then [name] pushed him. He stumbled into the Glade, and several of the boys grabbed him._

_Two._

_He turned around, and saw her in the other side, in the Maze. She had stopped running._

_She flashed him a smile, then at Newt. Said boy was screaming his lungs off, repeating “no”s and “[name]”s. Minho watched as she shouted an “I love you,” to both him and Newt._

_One._

_And then the huge gaps closed, leaving [name] out in the Maze by herself. Newt screamed, a screech formed with incomprehensible words that tore their hearts apart, and lunged forward, free of his constraints. Minho yanked his arms away from the Gladers, staggering to the firmly closed stone walls. He started banging on it, as if it will crack open to reveal his sister at the other side if he banged hard and long enough._

_But it wasn’t true. She would never come back._

_She was gone._

* * *

The night that the girl came from the Box, holding the cursed note, Newt isolated himself in the Deadheads. He would get out eventually, or somebody would try to find him eventually. He didn’t care. He climbed a random tree, as far from the Glade and its inhabitants as he can get. He climbed until the branches above him would shake when he put just a little bit of his weight onto them.

 

And then he cried.

 

Tears were just coming out of his eyes. They streamed out nonstop, and he couldn’t help but let out a strangled cry. Just soft enough that the others won’t be able to hear, but loud enough to just let it out. A few broken sobs left him. All that was bottled up inside of him, for the agonizing 14 months without her, bubbled out. It was like a little hole in the dam, and it got bigger and bigger until the dam broke. And the only person who could fix it was gone.

 

Yesterday, Thomas asked if there was ever a girl in the Glade. Newt didn’t give an answer, but shooed Thomas to the Homestead. That was fine, because every bloody Newbie that comes out of that shuck Box asks that question. He’s used to that.

 

But this? This is something else. He can’t look at the girl without thinking of her. She would be a constant reminder of what (more like who) he had lost, jabbing at his sides and poking at him just to see him ticked off. They weren’t anything alike, but they were both beautiful. The new girl with silky black hair and a pretty face. She was beautiful (none of the Gladers could deny it), though she would never compare to her.

 

Her. [name]. The first ever girl to step a foot into the Glade. Striking [eye colour] eyes, long [hair colour] hair that framed her face perfectly, looking perfect in a bun―her personal, specific bun that was neat and messy at the same time. Her easygoing yet hardworking personality. Beautiful didn’t even start to describe her. The way his name rolled off her tongue. The way she looked at him, playfully, lovingly. The way she walked. The way she fought with Minho, just like the closest of siblings would.

 

The way she loved him. And the way he loved her back.

 

All the good memories were just painful now. All the good things, the small things, the big things; the day they confessed to each other, the time they made flower crowns for each other―[name] did make the most beautiful flower crowns, with just the right flowers and just the right amount. She said that they made him look like an angel. He thought that with it, she looked like some angel that just descended from heaven.

 

A heart wrenching sob was heard again. Then silence.

 

“Newt,” a voice croaked out, cutting through the silence. “Are you up there?”

 

He glanced down, his vision blurred. Down there was Minho.

 

Her brother.

 

“They’re worried,” he continued.

 

“Yeah,” God, his voice sounded as bad as he felt.

 

“Dude, I know. Believe me, I know,” the Asian boy below said, and Newt believed him. They were both impacted so much by her death. Yes, you know. But they don’t. he wanted to answer. But he just let out a small yeah, I’ll come down soon. Minho turned around and left, and it was so quiet that Newt could hear his feet making thump, thumps against the earth. It was soft and too loud at the same time. Newt almost sobbed once more as he remembered [name]’s little ability to walk without a sound. She used to surprise him every day, sneaking up on him.

 

He allows himself thirty seconds before wiping his tears and climbing down slowly, until his feet touches the green ground again.

 

Newt sees her last day in his dreams.

  
  


_It was a normal morning in the Glade. Minho and [name] were getting ready to go into the Maze just like any other day. Newt was helping them pack, and before they leave, he plants a small kiss on her forehead. “Be careful out there, love,” he says, and she giggled._

_“Of course, Newtie. See ya later!” she bolted out the Maze doors, but not before sealing their lips together for a moment. Newt smiled. She would be safe with Minho, just like any other day. She was strong, she could take care of herself._

_When it was first decided that she would become a runner, Newt opposed the idea completely. The Maze was too dangerous, and he couldn’t lose her. But she managed to convince him with the help of her brother Minho promising that he would keep her safe._

_Newt looked at the looming gap, where she disappeared through. She was the sunshine of his life. She picked up his pieces and patched him back together, slowly but surely. She was everything to him. She was strong, and she had proved that multiple times. Now, it’s just that he can’t see her face during the day that makes him sad._

_He shook his head and turned around, heading towards where the other Gladers were waking up._

__  
  


_Soon, it was noon. Newt couldn’t wait until the time she would be back, because he had made the perfect flower crown. She loved those, and had taught him how to make one just weeks ago. And this one was perfect. Just the right bits of green and [favorite colour], blue and yellow. He smiled softly, placing the crown gently on her hammock._

_He busied himself with work again. He rarely slacked off, but if she saw him slacking, she would kick his butt before sending him to work again. And so he worked, trying to forget the time._

__  
  


_They were getting worried. The siblings should have been back at least an hour ago. Most of the residents of the Glade (yes, even Gally. She had influenced him, too) were waiting at the Maze entrance, their faces worried. Newt was in the front with Alby and Nick._

_“They should be back soon, or else they won’t make it,” they whispered to each other, trying to keep Newt from hearing. He didn’t, but their faces spoke what their words did not. The siblings would die if they don’t come back soon. Newt knows, but he holds onto the hope that they would be back soon._

_“Nick,” he begins, and said boy jumps in surprise. “We… we have to send someone.”_

_But Nick shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry, Newt, but we can’t. There are rules, and the other runners are exhausted.” And that would be another person wasted. It’s not said out loud, but Newt hears it as clear as someone shouting it in his ears. He keeps looking out, just looking for a sign that they’re coming back._

_The doors creaked, and began to close. Newt panicked, and so do the others. [name], he thought. [name]. “[name]!” he was shouting now. “[NAME]!”_

_There was slight hope when the duo emerged from around the corner. They were running as fast as they can, but everyone soon realized that neither of them will make it. Minho was sprinting, [name]’s hand in his, clutched in a death grip. But he knew, they’re too far. Newt screamed her name over and over again, but he was unable to move because Nick and Alby are restraining him by his arms. Their eyes held grim acceptance._

_“NO!” he shouted, and his throat was hurting, but he didn’t feel it anymore. Then there was a glint in [name]’s eyes, and it was something that Newt never saw before with her. He was afraid of what she would do._

_Then she caught Newt’s eyes. He stared into her [eye colour] eyes. He didn’t know (and still doesn’t) how she trapped the beauty of the universe in those two small orbs. Wait, Newt, foolish thoughts. She was going to die, and Newt was standing there, admiring her eyes. But then he realized what the glint in her eyes was. Grim determination._

_The doors were literally seconds from closing._

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

_Then [name] did something that none of the boys expected her to do. She let go of Minho’s hand. Her eyes were still on Newt’s. Then she pushed her brother. He stumbled in, and she stopped. Alby and Nick and some others immediately grabbed Minho and pulled him into the safety of the Glade._

_Two._

_And then Newt saw her smile in that beautiful, sad way, her mouth forming a beautiful “I love you,” a split second before the doors finally shut._

_One._

_The gap was no more. The impossible stone walls separated Newt from the love of his life. For a split second, everything was quiet. No movement. She was dead, gone. He would never see her again. Ever in his life. They had promised to each other that they would stay, no matter what. Now that promise was broken, shattered, blown into the Maze like they were some ashes. Then the fact that [name], his lovely, lovely [name] was gone, dead, sank in._

_And Newt screamed._

He woke up from the terrible, terrible nightmare, hand clamped against his mouth to keep from screaming. But what hurt him, tore him apart, piece by piece, the most?

 

It wasn’t just a nightmare. It was a memory, something that happened. It was his reality.

  
He would never see [name] again.


	2. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All she can do is watch. But the question is... _does she really want him to keep living like this?_

She was floating. Not falling down or flying up, but just… floating. Everything around her was a blur of colours, too vague for her to be able to figure out what they really were. She floated there for a few… minutes? Hours? Days? An eternity? She didn’t know.

 

And then the memories hit her. Her childhood, her parents… her younger brother, whom had all died years ago. Minho, her twin brother. WICKED. They had renamed her. [name]. Her real name. Her brother’s real name. All the memories came rushing back at her, overwhelming her. She went over every detail slowly.

 

_Newt._

 

“Newt,” she said out loud, the first word she had spoken since she got here. “Newt.”

 

He was alive. But she also knew that he probably wasn’t safe. After all, he wasn’t Immune the last time they checked. She remembered the time before the Swipe. Even then, they had been dating each other. And in the Glade, the shucking hell that broke Newt.

 

Then her surroundings turned black, as if somebody had decided to turn off the shucking sun or something. She looked around frantically, but it wasn’t as if she could do anything. It was as if she was in space, and had nothing to hold onto. But somehow, as much as it should have scared her, it calmed her. Somehow.

 

Then there was a bright flash of light. She instinctively brought her hands up to shield her eyes, but found that her eyes didn’t burn as they would have. Should have. She put her hands down, but her body was still tense.

 

 _Time to go_ , something whispered. It sounded like her parents, but somehow... combined. Speaking at the same time. She somehow knew that it wasn’t her parents, though. _Let’s go_.

 

“No,” she said aloud, a defiant tone to her voice. “Not without Newt.”

 

 _It is not his time_ , it said. _Yet._

 

The added word sent shivers up her spine, but she ignored it. “I’m going to Newt.” She was shouting now, no longer floating but standing on a black surface. Her eyes were ablaze, flaring as she denied the voice’s order.

 

 _You can’t ―_ it held a surprised tone to its voice. Then it quieted, but she kept glaring daggers at the white light. _No_ , it whispered. _Again?_

“Again?” she wondered out loud, but the voice didn’t answer. Instead, the whole space of nothingness became engulfed by a new colour, a colour that she had never seen before. It couldn’t be described, not with the words humans used to identify and classify colours. But it was beautiful. And as she was enveloped by the mysterious colour, she thought she heard a _not again_ from the voice.

 

 

* * *

 

 

And then she was somewhere. She instantly recognized as the Glade. She looked down to see her body… but transparent. She looked at her hands, panic grabbing her and spinning her around. Everything seemed so real, though. _It’s me that’s not real_ , she realized. _It’s me_.

 

Then she saw something that broke her heart into tiny pieces. It seemed as if all the Gladers were mourning ― for her. Most were crying, some wore blank faces. Some worked themselves to their limit. And others were just walking around aimlessly, black under their eyes as if they haven’t slept. And maybe they hadn’t.

 

The next thing she knew was standing next to Minho, in the empty Homestead. “Min!” she said, but she knew that he wouldn’t hear. “Min, come on, _I’m right here_.”

 

He ignored her ghostly presence, choosing to bury his face back in his hands. He mumbled incoherent words, and she leaned in closer to hear what he was saying. “ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…_ ”

_It’s not your fault, she wanted to say. It’s mine_. But she didn’t want to say it just for him to ignore her. She wanted him to hear when she said something, not to ignore her like she was nothing, not real. _I’m not real._

 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, and every word broke down her heart more and more. She almost regret coming back, even though she didn’t know if she was the one who did it. “I’m so sorry.” She desperately wanted to hug him as they did when they were taken by WICKED ― he was usually the strong one, but even he had breakdowns. She would hold him, and they would cry into each other’s shoulders.

 

She reached out, the temptation winning over knowing that her hand would pass through him. But as she got closer, she found herself elsewhere.

 

_Newt._

 

He was crying. His eyes were red and puffy, grey with mourning. He was grieving, and she thought that she could hear his heart break. “Newt,” she said, but he didn’t hear. She expected it. “Newt, it’s okay. I’m right here, love.” It didn’t feel strange for her to use his pet name for her. She guessed that it was because it was true.

 

She was kind of getting used to people not responding to her, too. It didn’t hurt less ― in fact, it hurt like a thousand knives at her stomach, stabbing and stabbing. She wondered if that’s what her death felt like, because she couldn’t remember. Wouldn’t remember. If it wasn’t, it was the greatest pain she’d ever felt in her life, she was sure of it. But she was getting used to it. Kind of (not really, if she was really being honest with herself).

 

She watched. She was so close. It drove her crazy, the fact that she couldn’t hug him, touch him, kiss him. She wanted to reach out, but every time her arm passed through him, he seemed to shiver. She discovered that she could move objects, somewhat touch them, if she concentrated enough. But she preferred not to do it, as WICKED would realize something was off.

 

So she watched, not interfering. She watched as Newt placed a beautiful flower crown on . She watched as Thomas came up on the Box. She watched the End, the End that Teresa triggered. She watched as they fell and got up again. She watched Gally get taken. At first, she tried to follow, but she realized that she couldn’t. She couldn’t move too far from Newt. She wondered if it was a bond.

 

* * *

 

 

“Tommy,” she heard Newt call Thomas. It was the same way he called the brunette before the Swipe took over. The Glade was so peaceful, so normal right now. But she knew, that with Thomas coming up, that Teresa would be up soon. After all, Thomas was her best friend before the Swipe and she was sent up the Box.

 

She had to stay with him.

 

So she was there while he and the others escaped the Maze, just watching as her friends were killed off one by one. She cursed at the Grievers that almost got to Newt and Minho and the others. She tried to help them… failing miserably. In panic, her ghostly hands passed over the metal, and she cursed herself.

 

When they got out, she felt glad that Newt was still alive. Then she felt guilty, because so many others did not escape the hellhole. She followed them onto the bus, somehow knowing that this was still WICKED and they were still in their hands, but helpless to call out for them.

 

“[name],” she heard Newt mutter in his sleep, and she sat on the bed, concentrating only on grabbing his hand. She felt it. It was like she was alive again, able to feel and touch and live. Because he was her life. She gently massaged patterns into his hand, invisible markings all over his cold palm. “[name],” he whispered again.

 

“I’m here,” she found herself saying back. And after that was blackness. “Newt?” she called out, confused. His hand was gone. Completely gone. She wasn’t even next to him anymore. The black faded and gave way to a field of flowers. It was like the garden in the Glade, without the walls, trapping them in. It was infinite, never-ending.

 

“[name]?” a familiar voice.

 

“Newt,” her voice was calm. It was as if she wasn’t panicking, but she was. Oh, you don’t know how much she was. “Newt.”

 

“[name],” he repeated, and he ran to her. She wanted to run to him, too, to reach out to him and hug him, touch him, kiss him. “[name],” he said again, still running forwards. But something was wrong. He ran and ran, his limp barely interfering with his speed, but it looked as if the distance between them was increasing instead of decreasing. But Newt didn’t give up.

 

“Newt, stop!” she yelled as soon as she realized that they weren’t going to meet, not if she didn’t move. “It’s fine, darling.”

 

“No, [name], no, it’s _not_ ,” he sobbed, and she saw a lone tear drop down, soon lost in the massive amount of flowers. She bent down, and searched for something that she knew would be there. She didn’t know how exactly, but when she straightened up again, there was a flower crown, nestled in her fingers. Then all of the flowers disappeared, leaving only the green of the grass.

 

“Newt,” she said for the last time before she began to fade away. “ _I love you_.”

 

She didn’t hear his response in the dream. But when she opened her eyes again, she was holding his hand once more, and she thought she heard him croak out an “ _I love you too_ ” back at her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She was with him the whole time. She was at their side when they went through the Scorch, battling the Cranks. She watched as they suffered, trying to give reassurance but failing, as they couldn’t hear her. She watched as they battled once again, now nonhuman creatures with… light bulbs? She watched them almost _die_. More than once.

 

Then she watched them being taken to WICKED, and them take their third and probably final trials. She watched them all. She watched as they were notified that Newt was not immune to the disease, watching as they grieved and grieved. She watched their escape, heard WICKED’s lies. She held Newt’s hand as he slept.

 

And then the painful part came. Newt began to lose himself. She saw him as he stayed on the Berg, tearing himself apart. She watched, watched, watched, helpless, as he was taken by the guards. She watched as he made “friends” in the Crank Palace.

 

Then she watched, again, when Minho and Thomas and the two others came to try and take Newt back. She tried to stop him, to take the Launcher out of his hands as he pointed it at his two best friends. “The sight of you makes me sick,” he spat out. His eyes were already mad, almost to the point of the Gone.

 

She saw Thomas flinching, so hurt by Newt’s words. “Newt, please, don’t do this,” she pleaded with Thomas and Minho. “Newt, _love_ , please don’t hurt yourself.” But she also knew why he did this: because he didn’t want to hurt the two others. She stayed with him. Even when he was going mad, even when he almost lost himself.

 

Then she realized why Newt had said that he didn’t want to see Thomas. _The note_. He had given Thomas a note before they left WICKED on the Berg. Then realized that the note must have said something about killing him.

 

She wondered what she wanted. Maybe for Newt to live, so that he could live for both of them. But that would make him suffer. Maybe for him to die. Because then, he would be free of the disease. Because then, they would be back together again. But as she thought, she felt so, so selfish.

 

Again, watching. She watched as Newt became even more unstable. And moved out to take over Denver. Then she watched him blend in with the other Cranks there.

 

And came Thomas. He was in a van with some others. The Right Arm, she guessed, and she was probably right. Not that she ever would know. “KILL ME!” she heard Newt yell. Newt was on top of Thomas, pressing the gun to his own forehead. She smiled sadly. So this would be how it ends for him. “Please, Tommy. Please.”

 

Then Thomas pulled the trigger, closing his eyes tightly as he did so. She knew that he ran, ran to the van. Away from his friend’s dead body. But she didn’t watch. Her eyes were focused on Newt and Newt only. The blond boy looked as good as new. His hair was flawless, as it had been back in the Glade. His skin wasn’t blistered and scarred. He looked up, and their eyes met, for the first time in years. The spark was still there, and she almost jumped because their little staring contest was so intense.

 

She felt like she was alive again. It was like the time she held Newt’s hand as he slept, but multiplied. He gaped at her, looking so confused. He carefully reached out his hand, and with a bright smile, she took it. “[name], love,” he said, and she nodded. “You’re…”

  
“Let’s go,” she said, because it seemed like the right thing to say. It just came to her mind, and it felt natural, something that she felt like she had said before. She let herself be taken away by the sudden force. It was like she was rising in a glass elevator. She didn't know where she was going. But it was okay, because she was with... “Newt.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that was that.  
> i hope you enjoyed this fanfic, and whoever left the kudos, tysm <33  
> check me out on: stillnotfictional.tumblr.com :)

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed :) though it was sad.  
> this is also posted on fanfiction.net and tumblr, so yeah.  
> owo


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